Evasive Maneuvers
by PteraWaters
Summary: After a messy break up with Blaine, Kurt couldn't stand the thought of going back to Ohio for his last summer vacation. However, he needed a better excuse to give his dad than working part-time at Nordstrom's. When that excuse became a children's music camp in upstate New York, the last person Kurt expected to run into was Noah Puckerman, his fellow counselor.


**Title:** Evasive Maneuvers  
**Author: **pterawaters  
**Fanmix:** Through the Seasons  
**Artist: **maryaminx  
**Rating: ** R  
** Character(s)/Pairing(s): ** Puck/Kurt, Rachel, OCs  
** Genre: ** Friendship/Romance  
** Warning: ** Medical emergency for an OC background character (nothing explicit)  
** Spoilers: ** Season 3, to be safe  
** Disclaimer: ** Glee and its characters do not belong to me. This is a work of fiction and no money is being made.  
** Author Notes: ** Well, this is the story the majority of you wanted to see. I hope it's up to snuff! Parts were inspired by this prompt.  
** Summary: ** After a messy break up with Blaine, Kurt couldn't stand the thought of going back to Ohio for his last summer vacation. However, he needed a better excuse to give his dad than working part-time at Nordstrom's. When that excuse became a children's music camp in upstate New York, the last person Kurt expected to run into was Noah Puckerman, his fellow counselor.  
** Word Count: ** 17,070

**Chapter 1**

"No, okay," Kurt nodded into his phone, playing with the remains of his coffee cup and nervously swinging one of his sandals from his big toe. What was he going to do now? "I understand. Someone else is a better fit. Of course."

Kurt was _not_ going to cry, damn it! He wasn't! Okay, maybe after hanging up the phone, he cried a little, but this was the big city and if people saw him crying, one, they had no idea who he was, and two, they wouldn't try to help him feel better.

Unlike _some_ people.

Kurt glared at her when Rachel plopped down, breathless, at the table with him, a big smile on her face. "Was that Vogue? Did you get the internship?"

Crushing an empty sugar packet in his hand, Kurt replied, "Yes, it was. And no, I didn't get it."

"Aw," Rachel pouted, leaning forward as if to hug him until she saw the sour look on his face. Sitting back in her seat, Rachel sighed, "I'm sorry, Kurt. I know how much you wanted to work at Vogue."

"It's not just the internship," Kurt admitted, pursing his lips a little in resigned disappointment. "It's the fact that if I don't have a job here, a job more important than part-time clerk at Nordstrom's, my dad is going to guilt me into going back to Lima for the summer. I can't deal with Lima right now, Rachel. I can't."

"Because _he's_ going to be there?" Rachel asked, stealing the last bite of Kurt's pre-exam-studying cookie without even asking if it was vegan. "I bet you don't even run into him when you go back. Lima's not _that_ small."

Kurt rolled his eyes, thinking Rachel must not have been remembering their hometown correctly, and pointed out, "I've run into him _four times_ since we broke up last week! Here in New York! And he doesn't even live here!"

"Point," Rachel allowed, bobbing her head. Then, tapping one finger against her chin, she hummed. "I did hear about another job. It's not here in the city, but it's not in Lima either. One of my instructors thought I might be interested, but you know that I'm going back to Ohio for one last summer, in the hope that once Finn graduates a year from now he will see fit to find a job here, so that he can come live with me and we can have our happily ev–"

"I get it," Kurt interrupted her, his voice low and laced with sarcasm. "You and Finn are dreadfully blissful." He sighed before asking, "What is the job, where is it, and why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"

"It's teaching music – they were looking for a vocal instructor, so I know you could do that, as well as piano if they needed it."

Intrigued, Kurt nodded and gestured for Rachel to continue.

"And I didn't tell you about it before because I thought you'd want to stay here in the city. Of course, that was when you and Blaine were still together and he was planning on staying here with you. You know, now that I think about it, I do believe that this job is exactly the challenge you need at this juncture in your life. Who knows? Mayb–"

"Rachel!" Kurt cut her off again, really not too fond of her propensity for rambling at the moment. "Why won't you tell me _where_ I'd be teaching music?"

Hesitating for a moment as she picked at a pill on her felt pea coat (Kurt didn't even know they made pea coats in that shade of orange), Rachel drawled, "Welll…"

"Do you want me to cut your hair in your sleep?" Kurt threatened. "I'm sure I could pull off a nice pixie cut, perfect for the upcoming seas–"

"It's at a music camp!" Rachel cried, clutching her long hair possessively.

"A music … _camp_?" Kurt asked, not sure what mental image he should be going for. "Like, camp at a school during the day sort of camp, or actually out in the woods sort of camp?"

Rachel simpered for a moment before admitting, "Out in the woods. But I was assured that most of the buildings have electricity and running water. So it's more like a … retreat or something. "

"A retreat?" Kurt asked skeptically. He'd never been the sort of boy who enjoyed the outdoors for longer than the duration of a nice walk, on paved ground where he could enjoy the fresh air and sunshine without any of the mud. Of course, he always wore a good, quality sunscreen to avoid the type of damage that lead to premature wrinkling, but studies also showed that exposure to sunlight was good for one's mood.

There was no way going to "camp" had the same scientifically proven effects.

Then again, it would be like a retreat. A retreat away from New York and Lima and Blaine Anderson.

A retreat from civilization, more like.

Sighing, Kurt shook his head. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes. Set it up. The interview or the audition or whatever. I'll do it."

"Wow," Rachel replied, shrugging and pushing her bottom lip into a pout before taking a sip of her coffee. "You're more desperate than I realized."

"I'm more desperate than _I_ realized," he replied, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling in his throat and telling himself anything was better than seeing Blaine again – even teaching snotty little kids out in the woods.

~~qp~~

Puck stumbled out of bed and grabbed a pair of boxers from the floor (one, because he had a roommate who was sick of seeing Puck naked, and two, because the old broad across the way kept staring in their living room window every morning, eagerly waiting for Puck to slip up so she could get another eyeful), before making his way first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to start the coffee.

When he got out to the kitchen, however, Mel was already scooping grounds into the filter. Puck groaned, "You are a goddess, babe," as he reached over her for a glass from the cupboard.

"I know." Puck's roommate shrugged, poking him in the side as he pulled away to go fill his glass with water from the sink.

"Fuck, I'm hungover," he admitted, taking a few long swallows of water before plopping down on one of the bar stools and letting his head thunk down onto the breakfast bar. "And I have to fucking pack..."

Mel turned on him with a predatory smirk and asked, "How much of last night do you remember, Noe?"

Looking his roommate up and down and realizing she was taking immense pleasure in his pain, he scowled and admitted, "I don't know. Shots. I remember shots. And karaoke."

"Which you killed at," she grinned, hopping up onto the stool next to his. Tongue darting mischievously between her teeth, Mel asked, "Noah? Were you too hungover to realize your bed has a guest this morning?"

Puck screwed up his brow in concentration and realized that his bed _had_ been a little warmer than usual when he woke up. Did he really miss the fact that someone else was sleeping there? "Fuck."

"I assume that's what happened, yes." She nodded, reaching back to pull a pair of hot pink underwear from her pocket. She unfurled them so Noah could only see the back and ordered, "Guess. Dude or chick?"

"Babe, what are you doing with those?" Puck hissed, making a grab for them and missing. He blamed the hangover for his lack of coordination. "They're gonna think I'm a psycho underwear snatcher!"

"Just guess!" Mel cried, once again dodging his grab. "I'll put them back where I found them if you do!"

Rolling his eyes, Puck sighed, "Fine! I guess chick."

Mel made a harsh buzzing noise, "Enhhhh!" and turned the briefs around to show the fly. "The correct answer was dude! Try again next time!"

When Mel tossed the briefs across the room so they landed on the floor near the front door, Puck raised one eyebrow. "What the hell?"

"Totally found them, just there," she insisted, and sure enough, there was a pair of strange jeans over there too. As Puck tried to remember why he'd undressed his hookup practically in the hallway, Mel hopped up to pour three cups of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. Pushing two of them at Puck, she told him, "Go make nice. Mr. Slutty Hot Pink Underwear just might be the one!" Her over-eager voice told Puck that Mel was giving him shit for bringing home someone he couldn't even remember (like she'd never done the exact same thing before), so he flipped her off before grabbing both mugs and heading back to his room.

When he toed open the door, Puck noticed that yes, there was a strange man in his bed. He was small and lean – no wonder Puck had mistaken his underwear for a girl's – and his light brown hair was adorably smashed on one side. The tattoo of a Celtic knot on his shoulder blade made Puck shiver as he remembered licking it while fucking the guy. Puck almost whined with regret at the fact that he didn't have time to pack for his summer away from the city _and_ for another round with–

_Colin_, Puck remembered all of a sudden. That was his name.

Puck was still sort of staring dumbly and mourning the fact that he'd probably never see Colin again when the dude shifted around and opened his bleary eyes. "Is'at coffee?"

"Uh, yeah, dude," Puck stammered, handing him one of the mugs. "It's hot, and black. I could get some milk or–"

"No, this is good," Colin replied, sitting up and taking the mug with a shy smile that made Puck want to kiss him. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Puck smiled back, sitting sort of half cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "So, Colin, here's the thing–"

"Uh-oh," the guy said, pouting at his coffee. "This is the part where I leave and we never see each other again. I knew you were out of my league."

Puck couldn't help but laugh and feel sad at the same time, "God, no. Fuck, no, dude. It's just, I'm leaving town for the summer. When I get back in August, could I maybe…" Puck hated feeling flustered, but the more of the previous night that came back to him, the more he wanted to ask, "...call you? Like, we could go out or something?"

From out in the hallway, Mel called, "God, Noah! You're such a girl!"

Puck was sort of pissed at Mel's comment, but Colin laughed, so Puck smiled and called back, "If I were a girl, you'd have the hots for me, babe! Admit it!"

"Never!"

Colin was still laughing as he set down his mug on Puck's nightstand and asked, "When do you leave?"

Puck reached over him (how did he smell so good?) to check the time on his phone so he could reply, "In about two hours. And I have to pack..."

"In other words," Colin replied, taking Puck's phone from his hand and putting his number in it, "GTFO."

"Ha, yeah," Puck chuckled, taking his phone back and watching as Colin shamelessly got out from under the covers and started looking around for his stuff. "Dude, I think I saw your pants and underwear out in the hall."

"Oh, awesome," Colin replied, totally just leaving the room before Puck could offer to go get them. A few seconds later, he came back, stepping into his briefs and asking, "Did you know you've got a voyeuristic old lady across the way?"

"Yeah." Puck grinned, polishing off his coffee as he watched Colin finish getting dressed. "Yeah, I did."

**Chapter 2**

Kurt felt more than a little queasy during his bus ride up into the great northern woods, and it had nothing to do with motion sickness. When he passed his audition and was offered the job, the recruiter said nothing about having to ride in a bus for two hours, from the podunk little airport to the town closest to Camp Blue Rain, where someone would pick him up.

And what sort of name was that for a camp, anyway? It sounded like River Phoenix's long-lost baby sister, rather than an establishment of employment and education.

Camp _Blue Rain_.

This was going to be a freaking disaster.

When the bus came to his stop, Kurt thought he would be more than ready to get off the bus and into the fresh air, but unfortunately it had started to rain – hard. Rain did horrible things to Kurt's hair and his new coworkers were going to see him like that! What an awful first impression! Kurt believed that first impressions said a lot about a person. Sure, this job was just a means to an end, an escape, but he'd planned on putting his best foot forward just the same.

During the fraught dash from the bus to under the overhang of the seriously out-dated gas station that was his stop, Kurt didn't see anyone who looked like they were waiting for him. So, he set his tote bag on top of his rolling suitcase (Kurt wasn't sure if he was glad that the camp had uniforms for its counselors or not – on the one hand, it meant he had fewer suitcases to lug around on his trip, but on the other, he'd sworn after leaving Dalton that he would never again wear a uniform) and waited.

The bus pulled away after letting him, the sole passenger destined for this hell hole, escape, and all that was left was Kurt, the rain, and the gas station clerk – a heavy girl with a thick, blonde ponytail who stared out the window at him like he really was the unicorn Brittany had dubbed him during senior year. After a moment, Kurt took out his cell phone, contemplating a call to this "Mary" person that he was supposed to meet, but he didn't have a signal, so that was out of the question.

Seriously, how remote did you have to be before cell phones ceased working? What would you do if your car broke down and it was something you couldn't fix with the kit in your trunk? _Walk_?

But then a rickety-looking van with a belt that screeched when the steering was turned pulled into the parking lot. It had "Camp Blue Rain" painted on the side in hideous, rainbow-colored letters with musical notes all around, and Kurt got the impression that the children had been allowed to decorate it at least once, if not multiple times over the course of the van's life. He wondered if he could scrounge together enough change to use the pay phone inside the gas station to call his dad and beg for someone to come get him out of this.

But it was just one summer, right? And the money was, well, pretty terrible, but he had enough saved up from his clerk job and from his Dad that even taking the summer away, he would be able to afford living in that apartment he and Blaine had chosen by himself and wouldn't have to awkwardly share a one bedroom with one of his girlfriends or, even worse, a complete stranger. Kurt took a deep breath, held his head high, and marched out into the rain.

A tiny woman wearing a bright green raincoat hopped out of the driver's seat and came around to open the back doors of the van, presumably so Kurt could stow his luggage back there. He should have taken Finn up on the offer to borrow his suitcase, even if it smelled like gym socks and pine air freshener, because trusting his bags to the grease-stained carpet of this van was going to kill him.

Except the carpet inside the van was much cleaner than Kurt expected it to be and the driver said, "Hi! I'm Mary! Why don't you hop in and stay a little drier? I got this!"

Kurt wanted to protest, because she was smaller even than Rachel, but his hair was a disaster zone waiting to happen in this weather, so he just called to her, "Thanks!" and took Mary up on her offer. The passenger seat, like the rest of the seats in the (What, twelve-? Fifteen-person?) van was black pleather, clean, and much more comfortable than his seat on the bus had been.

The back doors slammed shut and then the woman was smiling at him from the driver's seat. Now that Kurt got a good look at her, she was probably about his age, maybe a year or two older, but unlikely. Smiling brightly with orthodontic-straight teeth, she cried, "Hi! So, like I said, I'm Mary. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Well, we did if you're Kurt and I'm assuming you are because there's no one else here and boy, you're dressed way too good to be a serial killer, which I find comforting since it's a bit of a remote drive and how was your trip up here?"

Mary took a breath and waited for his response, but all Kurt could do was blink slowly at the shocking onslaught of words. It was a bit like being blindsided by Rachel, except Mary (whose feet barely reached the pedals of the giant van, god help him) didn't seem to have an agenda the same way Rachel always did.

"Uh, good," he replied. "Well, not so much good as exhausting and too warm and kind of rank, but I made it here on time, so..."

"Oh, I know," Mary nodded, her eyes wide above freckle-specked apple cheeks. "I took the bus up on Monday, and there was, I shit you not, a chicken on board." She put the van into gear and looked around quickly before pulling out of the gas station and onto a road, which was quickly surrounded by thick forest. "I felt like I was in Africa or something – you know, when they show those documentaries and there's all these people on the bus and several have chickens and one has a goat? Like that, only everyone was white, because upstate New York is not so diverse." Kurt was lost in Mary's words and smiling at the damp forest around them, so he barely noticed when she said, "I picked up one of the other counselors – Noah, he plays guitar – this morning and _he said_ he got slept on by this old fat lady who kept telling him he was hot when she wasn't drooling on his shoulder, but obviously that didn't happen to you!"

Mary paused for a breath and looked over at Kurt quickly before her mouth dropped and her eyes snapped back to the road, "Oh, god! I meant that you look put together and not drooled on, not that you're not hot, because you are and I really like your hair, and I'm going to stop talking now, so why don't you tell me a little bit about you? All I know is that you're at "fit" or something like that for school and you'll be a senior next year and you sing. So what else?"

Amused that Mary kept talking, even after she said she would stop, Kurt chuckled. "Um, I grew up in Ohio," Kurt told her, gripping his armrest a little harder as Mary took the van through a hairpin turn, the belts screeching again. "And my dad's a mechanic. As soon as it stops raining, you _have_ to let me look at this death trap!"

"Aw," Mary replied with a pout, petting the dashboard, "Betsy's alright, aren't you, girl?"

Kurt thought the name fitting, since it reminded him of the sort of name you'd give a cow, and this van was certainly big and lumbering enough for the resemblance to be apparent.

"So, what else? Any significant other?" Mary glanced over at him and wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made him chuckle, despite the sick feeling in his stomach as he thought about Blaine.

"Uh, not anymore," Kurt said, wondering if he could get away with just leaving things at that. Mary's imploring look suggested otherwise. "We broke up six weeks ago and I sort of took this job to get away from him."

"Oh, sweetie!" Mary pouted, blowing right past the gay issue as she asked, "Was he a total asshat? Abusive? Because my Aunt Katie had this one boyfriend who–"

"No!" Kurt assured her, cutting off what he was sure was working itself into one hell of a rant. "Nothing like that. It's just... We were great in high school, we were even better long distance. But then he came to stay with me for spring break and everything just ... fell apart. He used my toothpaste, something that's never bothered me before, and I flipped out on him and then he flipped out too and then we were arguing and it comes out that he cheated on me, which really I didn't have a leg to stand on against because I cheated on him, too, and just- unghh!" Kurt looked over at Mary, who despite her friendly demeanor was still practically a stranger to him, and realized that he'd just dumped his problems all over her. "Sorry. Sorry, it was like six weeks ago and I'm still pissed. You can tell me to shut up now."

Mary took a loud, scandalized breath and cried, "Never! Babydoll, sometimes you just gotta let it out and that, right there, was some kick-ass venting! Gay high-five!" Eyes still on the road, Mary held out her pinky toward him and he chuckled, liking his finger with hers and shaking their hands twice before fading into jazz-hands.

"Mary?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"I have a feeling we're going to be good friends."

Mary grinned, side-eying him a little as she said, "Score!" Then, after a short pause, she asked, "Hey, you hungry? This motel up the road has a pretty great menu, especially compared to what they feed us up at Blue Rain. You in? You could totally vent some more, as long as you're willing to hear me vent about every man I've ever met."

Kurt thought about the invitation, looking at his watch and seeing that it was already pretty late, but he liked Mary and he liked food that wasn't beanie-weenies or macaroni and cheese, so he smiled at her and replied, "Why the hell not?"

~~qp~~

Kurt got in so late after dinner and then drinks with Mary, followed by an hour of sobering up, followed by the forty-five minute drive from town up to the camp, that he didn't get to meet his cabin-mates. Mary just showed him to a small bedroom with a single bed, a closet, and a dresser that smelled like mothballs and had cheap drawers that stuck halfway. "Sleep tight." She waved tiredly. "I'm next door in the girls' cabin, so I'll see you at day one of training. Whoo!"

Mary's excitement was quiet and heavily clouded with sleep, so Kurt pushed her back toward the front door and said, "I'll be fine, Mary whose specialty is string instruments. See you tomorrow."

Once she was gone, Kurt stepped into the shared bathroom, taking over the one of the six shelves that was empty and snooping around in the other guys' products a bit. "Axe, Axe, Old Spice, Axe. Ooh, Tom Ford Oud Wood. Nice!" Kurt took the bottle of cologne and pulled out the stopper, wafting the scent toward his nose and making an appreciative hum. He wondered who among his still-mysterious cabin-mates had the expensive taste, because he definitely wanted to get to know this gentleman, even if he was straight.

Sighing as he put the bottle back in its place, Kurt finished his skin care regiment, stowed his things, and went back to his room. A set of earplugs, a face mask, and a few dozen minutes of lying there and Kurt fell asleep.

**Chapter 3**

Puck hadn't slept well the night before, since it was a new place and one of the dudes was moving around in the bathroom, which was right next to his room, late into the night. If he was going to make it through "orientation," he was going to need a giant-ass mug of coffee. Unfortunately, when he got down to the kitchenette, there was no coffee maker. Well, no electric coffee maker. There was this old-school coffee pot and a freaking wood-burning stove. Seriously? This place had electricity. How difficult would it be to put in a little stove like the one in his apartment? Oh, his _apartment_ with its easy-to-use coffee maker and its roommate who usually made the coffee. Damn it.

Rummaging around in the kitchen a little, Puck located the coffee grounds and then the stack of wood outside the back door. Dude, he would have to thank Carole Hudson for driving him to and from all those Boy Scouts meetings when he and Finn were little, because he had no trouble lighting a fire in the stove. Next he had to thank his nana (rest in peace) for being in-freaking-love with antiques and always using her father's old percolator coffee pot, because he had plenty of practice getting the brew just right. Well, provided the grounds weren't super-fine like this crap that was available. "Shit," he said to himself as he poured out the first cup and sandy grounds floated to the bottom of his mug. "Well, at least it's caffeinated."

Puck heard the slap of bare feet against the hardwood floor before he saw their owner turn the corner into the kitchen, saying, "Do I smell what I think- Puck?"

Puck almost choked on his coffee before spitting it gracelessly back into the mug. "Kurt?" Puck had only seen Kurt in passing a few times since graduation, and definitely not in the last year and a half since Puck had finally got into a school other than Lima Community College and moved to the Big Apple, and because of that all but lost touch with Finn because he was butt-hurt that all of his friends were in New York and he wasn't. After all this time, Kurt looked ... older. Much more grown up, like he hadn't finished baking during high school despite being one of the oldest kids in their class. He looked _hot_, despite (or maybe because of) being barefoot in monogrammed silk pajamas, with hair that stuck up everywhere.

"Yeah," Kurt nodded, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. "Noah Puckerman! What are the odds?"

Heart beating a little faster under that gaze, Puck hesitated for half a second before setting his mug down on the counter and crossing the room to pull his former friend into a tight hug. "What the fuck are you doing here, man? Of all the places! You realize this is a _camp_, don't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Kurt replied, pursing his lips in distaste. "But it was either this or a long, awkward summer avoiding every place Blaine and I ever went together, so..."

Puck saw sadness and a little bit of anger flit across Kurt's face, so he asked, "You guys break up?"

Kurt nodded and sighed.

Puck shook his head and grabbed a clean mug, pouring some coffee slowly to avoid the grounds as he said, "I figured you and him were in it for the long haul, you know? What happened?"

Kurt took the mug and shrugged before blowing over the top of his drink and taking a sip. He gave Puck a moderately impressed look before opening the fridge and pulling out the gallon of skim milk one of the other dudes had put in there. "The long distance finally got to us," he admitted as he poured a dollop of milk into his coffee before putting the milk back. "We fought, we cheated, we broke up. It's an old story."

"But not an old break up," Puck guessed, leaning back on one of the counters as he started sipping his own coffee.

"No," Kurt admitted. Then he tilted his head as he looked at Puck, pausing before taking a sharp breath and asking, "I seem to remember seeing a Facebook announcement about two years back that said, 'Noah Puckerman is in a relationship with Steven something-or-other.' Was that a joke?"

Puck blushed a little as he said, "Nah, man. Stevie and me were the real deal. Well, up until his dad found out about us and sent him to one of those fucked up 'pray away the gay' quacks. Fucking nutbar had him breaking up with me less than a week later." Puck shook his head in remembered anger and frustration. "After that I just had to get out of Ohio."

Kurt gave Puck a long look, like he was trying to decide whether or not Puck was fucking with him for a laugh, before he asked, "Really? Where did you move to?"

"The city," Puck replied, taking a long sip of his coffee before he noticed Kurt's questioningly raised eyebrow. "New York. I got a kickass recommendation from my old prof and transferred into music school, like legit."

"How long have you been living in the city?" Kurt asked, his voice a little higher with what sounded like fond exasperation. "And why didn't I know? You seriously didn't look up either me or Rachel?"

Puck shrugged. "Dunno. Felt weird talking to Rachel while she and Finn were on one of their stupid-ass 'breaks,' then all of a sudden school started and then it was three months later and I get enough Jewish guilt from my mother, thank you very much." Then he smiled over his coffee at Kurt and explained, "Didn't look you up 'cause of what a hypocritical ass I was during high school."

Kurt shrugged and tilted his head in a half-nod. After a silent moment, he asked, "So all those girls in high school...?"

"I'm bi, dude," Puck explained, smirking over his mug as he continued. "You really never caught me staring at your ass? Seemed like all I ever did back then."

Kurt's neck turned red and he looked down at the mug in his hands as he replied, "I thought you were just daydreaming a lot."

"And I thought it was just a phase caused by teenage hormones and unsupervised access to Internet porn, so there you go." Puck shrugged. Things felt more than a little awkward since Puck admitted he used to be (still was) attracted to Kurt. Draining the last of his coffee, Puck added, "Wellp, I'm gonna go get showered and dressed. Big orientation day today. I'll see you out there?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Sure," Kurt stuttered a little in reply, and Puck walked away hoping that hesitance was in surprise over Puck's coming out to him, not because he was realizing what a creeper Puck used to be back in high school, wanting people and just staring at them instead of going for it.

~~qp~~

Orientation was just as long and drawn out and boring as Kurt feared it would be. At least Mary grabbed his arm and pulled him to sit cross-legged beside her as Senior Camp Counselor Sandra went over her entire "guide book" and then some. Puck sat with a couple of straight-looking guys (Mary told Kurt their names were Dylan and Adam) and Kurt found himself wondering if he should have asked whether or not Puck had a significant other.

But, no. That was stupid. Kurt had _just_ broken up with Blaine less than two months ago. All the advice columns said it would probably take half as much time to get over the relationship as it had lasted. That meant it would be healthy to stay single for the next two years. And besides, there was nothing saying Puck was still attracted to him, even if he said he had been in high school. He was probably just being nice.

Then again, this was Puckerman, who favored brutal honesty over niceness time and time again. Not that he'd _said_ he was still attracted to Kurt. More like heavily implied. And Kurt couldn't say that he'd _never_ thought about Puck that way, but that had been a long time ago. Before Blaine, to be honest.

While they were walking around the camp, taking a (far too in-depth) tour, Mary caught Kurt's arm and said, "Hey! I want you to meet my friend, Tom!" She pulled a shortish (still half a foot taller than her), sort-of-Asian-looking boy toward them and continued, "He teaches trumpet and leads hikes and listens to dubstep with his headphones too loud and has a unicyle and a boyfriend in Maine, so don't get any ideas."

Kurt blinked a few times before he finally felt like all that information had been assimilated. Smiling, he offered Tom his hand to shake and said, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Kurt, though I'm sure Mary's already filled you in on my life story."

"Along with that of everyone she's ever met," Tom agreed with a chuckle, shaking Kurt's hand with a firm grip. "Voice, piano, and fashion, right?"

"That's me," Kurt agreed, catching a glimpse over Tom's shoulder of Puck smiling at someone. He leaned over just a bit to see that it was a girl; Kurt thought from the icebreaker activities that her name was Charity. Charity whose shirt was too low-cut for how high her bosom sat and whose make up was just a _touch_ overdone for someone who was about to be taking care of children. In the forest.

And Puck was _flirting_ with her. Of course. He always was one to go for the low-hanging fruit. Except for Lauren. But one good relationship out of all of them didn't make a changed man. As far as Kurt could see, he was still uninterested in True Love, and more interested in whatever Charity had under her tank top. Pathetic.

Though, was Puck the pathetic one for seeing what he wanted and going for it, or was Kurt, who'd held onto a dying relationship for far too long and now had the gall to be upset over how it ended and somehow use that to cling to the hope of being with the first guy afterward who'd given him a kind word? Kurt shook his head and tried to focus on whatever Tom and Mary were talking about, and not on the way Puck draped his arm over Charity's shoulders.

That night, Sandra and a few of the counselors cooked a barbecue over the bonfire in the center of camp, and before he could tell her not to, Mary pushed into his hands a paper plate so full of food that it sagged in the middle. "Please," he complained, steadfastly ignoring the way Puck was trying to catch his eye as he looked around for a place to sit, "I can't eat all of this!"

"Sure you can, sweetie," Mary insisted, tucking a paper napkin into his collar like he was five years old and patting the top of his head fondly. Kurt could not, for the life of him, figure out why he didn't mind the treatment. "Believe me, you'll burn off all the calories in two days, running after the kids."

Kurt sighed and shrugged before starting to eat. He found he _did_ have more of an appetite than usual and figured all the fresh air and walking around the camp had to be responsible. "I have to admit," he told Mary and Tom, who had just sat down and ended Puck's efforts to sit near Kurt. "I'm nervous about meeting the kids. What if they don't like me? What if they think I sound like Mickey Mouse and they laugh and won't do anything I say?"

"Use the whistle," Tom suggested, pointing to Kurt's welcome baggie that was sitting at his feet. "Kids love responding to the whistle, especially if you make it a game. You know, one blow means stop, two means go, three means dance like a crazy person."

Kurt thought Tom's suggestion might work but he still he turned to Mary to see what she thought. Just as the girl opened her mouth, though, Sandra cried, "More icebreaker activities while we eat!"

Kurt groaned. He was all for learning the names and some of the interests of his coworkers, but these over-structured icebreaker activities kept leaving a bad taste in his mouth. However, since he didn't want to be sent home before the summer even began, he kept his lips sealed.

"What you'll do," Sandra said, sticking one hand in her right shorts pocket, "is pull one item out of your pocket and tell us a little bit about why you have it and what it says about you as a person. For example." Sandra pulled a large ring of keys from her pocket and held out a small canister attached to them. "This is bear repellant," she explained. "Ever since I saw the movie _The Edge_ as a teenager, I've been terrified of bears. There are black bears in this area, so make sure the children stay in groups and don't leave out food or food wrappers to attract them."

Kurt was starting to feel concerned and wondering exactly what he was supposed to take away from Sandra's "icebreaker" when Mary leaned over and whispered in his ear, "She does this every year. Don't worry, there haven't been any bears seen around here for at least twenty years."

"Oh, sure," Kurt nodded back. He'd thought about dirt and bugs and squirrels and things when he was deciding whether or not to take this job. He'd never thought about bears or wolves or mountain lions or anything like that. Maybe he'd feel better with a can of bear repellent, too. God knew he felt better walking around New York with a can of mace in his pocket, when fashion permitted.

A few of the counselors got up and showed off a lucky penny, a gum wrapper, a pen, and a cell phone before it was Puck's turn. "Hey, uh, guys," he said as he rummaged around in his right shorts pocket. He pulled out something small and black that Kurt couldn't quite identify and held it up. "This is my lucky guitar pick," he announced, setting it in his palm and turning it over a few times with his finger. "It's - well, it's the last thing my dad ever gave me."

Puck stood silent for a moment before clearing his throat and looking up with an awkward smile. "It says I like to play guitar and I stupidly hang onto shit from the past." Without another word, Puck nodded and sat back down, leaving Kurt to wonder why he'd never heard about this guitar pick. He'd thought knew everything about Puck, but now he supposed not.

Kurt was still wondering about Puck's guitar pick three people later, when it was his turn. Startled a bit, Kurt stood and pulled out from his pocket the first thing he came across - his keys. Looking at them, Kurt smiled and isolated the keychain. "Everyone, behold my very special unicorn keychain." He smiled jokingly and a few people laughed, though a few also seemed a little uncomfortable, including Charity. Interesting. Moving on, Kurt continued, "I know it's terribly gay, but my friend Brittany – who's the sweetest girl in the world, I swear – gave it to me the day we graduated from high school. It reminds me that there are people who love me for me and not who they want me to be."

With a final nod, Kurt sat down, a smattering of applause in his wake and Mary's hand proudly heavy on his shoulder. Mary went next – a five dollar bill she kept in her bra "for emergencies" – and pretty soon Kurt had finished the entire plate that had been handed to him and he felt he knew a tiny bit more about his co workers.

**Chapter 4**

The afternoon before the kids were to arrive, everyone had to pitch in to make all their beds, because apparently Sandra didn't trust the kids to do it themselves. She'd assigned Kurt to a cabin with six of the youngest boys – eight-year-olds – which, frankly, he was grateful for. In Kurt's limited experience, younger kids were far less homophobic than their older peers. Sweeter, too.

He'd grabbed a few extra sheets and blankets, just in case he found one with stains or something, and when he didn't, he decided to return them to the linen closet in the main activity building. Thinking nothing of it, Kurt pulled the walk-in closet open, startling when he realized that there were people in there already. Puck- and Charity-shaped people. Frozen in some sort of semi-explicit pose, they stared (wide-eyed in Puck's case) at Kurt and he stared right back at them.

As far as Kurt could tell, Puck's hand was up Charity's tube-top and her hand was down the front of Puck's board shorts, and their lips were just an inch or two apart. Kurt blushed from hairline to shoulders in embarrassment at having caught them in such an intimate, compromising position. Suddenly, the tableau crumbled as Puck pulled away from Charity, took her hand out of his pants, and said, "Oh! Uh, hey, Kurt. I was just– I mean we were–"

"Don't hurt yourself trying to explain," Kurt snapped, shoving the linens onto the closest shelf before turning on his heel and leaving. He couldn't even explain why he was so upset. It wasn't like he was unused to tripping over Finn and Rachel making out all over the place.

After a few steps, he heard Charity mutter, "What's with the stick up _his_ ass?"

He didn't hear Puck's reply, but the man's voice was low and almost admonishing, so that was something, at least? Wasn't it?

He spent the rest of the evening studiously _not looking_ at either Puck or Charity.

~~qp~~

Puck had thought things with Kurt started out alright, but then he got all butt-hurt when he saw Puck talking to Charity, so Puck decided Kurt wasn't his problem. It wasn't like they really knew each other anymore, anyway, and if Kurt didn't want to be his friend, well, screw him.

Besides, Kurt was the kind of guy who did relationships, and Puck didn't. Or at the very least, he didn't know what he wanted, especially since this was a summer gig and he kinda sorta had a maybe-boyfriend lined up for when he got back. So when Charity started flirting with him, squeezing his arms and licking her lips and saying things like, "Oh, my god. I know Def Leppard like the back of my hand. I always sang their songs with my daddy. You know, before he left," well what the fuck was stopping him?

Charity had a pretty smile and awesome cleavage, and when she approached him after everyone was done making beds and whispered in his ear, "I want you so bad, baby," Puck couldn't help but grin a little and nod. Just like back in the city, he could just see what he wanted and go to it, no questions asked. He even had a condom on him, a habit from living in the city and Mel's constant reminders.

"Your room or mine?" Puck asked, nipping at Charity's neck and inhaling the sweet smell of some fragrance or other that suited her – sweet and just a little bit spicy.

"How about…" She smiled, a taunting dare in her eyes as she opened the doors of the closet beside them. "...here? I've always had a thing for janitor's closets."

Puck had done enough stuff in closets (and in the closet) for a lifetime, but Charity kissed him roughly, sticking her hand in his pants, and he wasn't thinking too well anymore, so he just nodded and let her pull him inside. Barely two minutes later, the unlocked door opened again (Puck knew he'd forgotten to do _something_) and the sight of that shocked, disgusted, _disappointed_ look on Kurt's face somehow rendered Puck nearly speechless. The first thing he managed to do was push himself away from Charity (his cock did not thank him for the way she tugged a little as he pulled away), then Puck managed to stammer, "Oh! Uh, hey, Kurt. I was just– I mean we were–"

Kurt took Puck's head off vehemently, "Don't hurt yourself trying to explain," and walked away, leaving Puck wondering what the fuck had just happened and why he felt so bad about it. It wasn't like Kurt was his boyfriend or anything. He wasn't Puck's _anything_ anymore. Kurt had made that perfectly clear.

Then Charity leaned close to Puck's ear and said, "What's with the stick up _his_ ass?"

"What?" Puck hissed in reply, affronted by the disgusted tone of her voice. "He was just surprised."

"Oh, please," Charity said, rolling her eyes and reaching for the door to close it again. "It's totally obvious that he has a gross crush on you. Now, where were–"

Puck caught Charity's arm to stop her and frowned as he asked, "Why would that be gross?"

Charity gave Puck an assessing look, like she was trying to figure out just how stupid he was, and said slowly, as if to make sure he caught her meaning, "Because you're both _boys_."

Totally bemused, Puck waited a few seconds for her to add the "duh" he was expecting, but when it didn't come, he shook his head, let go of her arm and said, "Even if I was straight, Kurt having a crush wouldn't bother me, because I'm not a bigoted asshole." _Anymore_.

Her lip curling into a sneer, Charity asked, "What do you mean, '_If_ you were straight?'" She looked him up and down and shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she backed up half a step. "You're some kind of pervert?"

Puck hated this moment, the moment where he had to tell his make out partner that he wasn't straight, but he wasn't gay either. It had taken him a long time to realize that anyone who couldn't handle that fact wasn't worth his time in the first place, but the telling still made him anxious. Shaking his head and sliently apologizing to his balls for getting them all riled up over this bitch, Puck told her, "I'm bi. So long." And then he was out of there.

Puck thought about jogging to catch up with Kurt, or finding him wherever he'd gone, but that disdainful, almost hurt look he'd had after finding Puck and Charity stopped him. What was he even doing? Kurt had made it clear that he didn't want to be friends, he just wanted to get over his boyfriend and then go back to his fabulous New York life unencumbered. Yeah, Puck wasn't too good at many things, but he was excellent at backing off when someone needed space. He'd give Kurt all the space in the world.

**Chapter 5**

The children arrived the next day, all excited, and their smiling faces cheered Puck up considerably. It was impossible to not feel almost giddy when his kids – fourth graders – spontaneously started chanting, "No-ah, No-ah, No-ah!" as he led them from the busses to their cabin.

"Alright, dudes," Puck announced as he stopped in front of one of the cabins and opened the door. "This is Giraffe Cabin, alright? Go on in. Pick your bunks. No fighting!" Puck pointed his finger at the smallest, scrawniest kid and gave him an exaggerated frown. "That means you, too, Macho Man!" The boy laughed, which was a good sign, and followed his fellow campers into the cabin.

Puck was about to follow them when he heard a familiar voice chastising someone. "Why won't you tell me your name? This behavior is far worse than knocking over some suitcases because you were playing tag! Is this really how you want–"

Puck found Kurt in the crowd, crouching down beside a blond-haired boy who was about ten, and the sight made Puck call out, "Hey, Hummel!" So much for giving the guy space. He jogged toward the two, stooping down to meet the kid's eyes. "Go ahead and tell him your name, buddy. I promise he'll understand."

The boy gave Puck a doubtful look before hiking his backpack up on his shoulder and turning to Kurt. One hand up, he spelled out "C-O-L-T-O-N" in rapid American Sign Language.

Kurt looked startled for a moment, eyes flicking over to meet Puck's briefly, before he smiled and signed out as he spoke, "It's nice to meet you, Colton. I'm sorry I tried to make you speak."

Colton nodded and turned to Puck, signing, "_Can I go now_?"

"Yeah, sure, buddy," Puck replied aloud, clapping Colton on the shoulder and pointing toward the cabin across the way. "You're with my group, over in Giraffe. Go find a bunk. I'll be over in a minute." Colt took off, which made Puck shake his head, since he'd obviously _just_ gotten in trouble for running around like crazy, but he was an excited kid. Not much to do about that but just let it happen.

Beside him, Kurt said softly, "I didn't know. Wasn't that something I should have been told about? And it's– I just don't– I don't understand. Why is he at music camp if he's...?"

"Colt's not deaf," Puck explained, watching as the boy in question threw himself through the cabin door and into the gaggle of ten-year-old boys. "He just can't talk. His mom told me he was in a car accident when he was like two and it did something to his brain. It's funny, though, because he can sing words, just not say them."

Kurt leaned back a little, arms crossed over his chest, and gave Puck a long, assessing, almost impressed look. "May I ask how you know so much about this boy?"

Puck thought about telling Kurt that he was at music school, but studying music therapy and not performance, and that Colton was one of the patients he was working with and the biggest reason he was working here over the summer and not in the city, but instead he decided to have a little fun. With a cocky grin, Puck replied, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Kurt looked like he was trying to be angry over Puck's dodging the subject, but was actually too amused to hold the expression. The sight made something flutter in Puck's chest and he told himself it was just gas from breakfast.

After watching Puck for a moment, like he would change his mind, Kurt shook his head and told Puck, "Well, I'm needed elsewhere. Make sure Colton knows I'm fluent in ASL and he can come to me anytime if he needs anything."

"Sure," Puck nodded, tilting his head and watching the way Kurt's ass moved as he walked away. Then a shout sounded from inside Giraffe cabin and Puck broke out of his sightseeing to go make sure his charges weren't killing each other. Hopefully, at least a week would pass before they had their first casualty. At least Puck was really fucking good at first aid.

~~qp~~

"So," Mary said, pointing the neck of her beer at Kurt, "what's up with you and that Noah guy? I'm not imagining all the looks, am I?"

Kurt slipped further down into his seat, avoiding looking at both Mary and Tom, and wailed a little, "I don't know." He tried to leave it at just that, but Mary raised her eyebrow at him and Tom went and followed her lead like he always did. Shit. "Look, it's just … we went to high school together and– and I guess I'm having trouble reconciling who he used to be and who he is now."

"Well, yeah, there's that," Tom nodded, giving Kurt a wicked smile. "And then there's all the _looks_. That's what _we_ want to hear about, Kurt."

"What _looks_?" Kurt asked, even though he had a good idea what they meant. He opened his mouth to own up to the fact that there were indeed glances bouncing back and forth between him and Noah Puckerman and he was very confused about them, but then a voice over his shoulder interrupted him.

"Mind if I join the 'queer bonfire'?" Puck asked, standing behind and to the side of Kurt. He nodded his head toward one of the other groups of counselors and said, "The sniping over there's getting nasty."

Kurt looked over his shoulder at the group Puck had been hanging out with – Charity, Dylan, Adam, and a few others. They were laughing, and more than one was glancing over in their direction. "Y-yeah," Kurt insisted, scooting a little toward Mary to make more room for Puck. "What are they sniping about? Everyone loves you."

Puck laughed humorlessly as he dropped down onto the edge of the blanket Kurt had spread out to spare his clothes the dirt. "Yeah, until I come out. This sucks. I miss the city. Chicks there love it that I'm bi."

"I'm willing to bet some of the girls here do too," Mary told him with a wink that was rather forward in Kurt's opinion, and he wrinkled his brow at the odd feeling that gesture ignited in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, so he drowned it with a swallow of beer and kept his mouth shut.

Puck accepted the beer Tom passed him with a grateful nod and replied to Mary, "Yeah, well I'm starting to think maybe me and girls just aren't meant to be. It's never worked out right."

Tom nodded and gave a sympathetic grunt, but Mary spoke up, "Well, here's the thing. No relationship lasts. Until one does."

Kurt startled at the statement, letting it settle over him, realizing just how true it was. He'd thought he and Blaine would be one of the relationships that did last. Until it didn't. His relationship was just like millions of others in that regard. This seething, wrenching, devastating heartbreak was something almost everyone went through at least once in their life. It made him feel less alone, somehow.

"Too true," Puck agreed, taking a long swig of his beer. His eyes cut over toward Kurt, and something about his expression made Kurt break into an awkward, shy smile. All relationships end. Until one doesn't.

~~qp~~

"So," Tom said, cornering Kurt in the kitchen of the "boys" cabin, "how was your first day with the little monsters?"

Kurt smiled and finished filling his glass of water before turning off the tap and replying, "It wasn't quite what I expected. I mean, Sandra must have been desperate to hire me, since I've had very little experience with children, but it was a lot more fun than I figured it would be."

Tom nodded, a wry grin pulling up the left corner of his mouth. "They _are_ fun, aren't they? This is my third year here, and despite all the headaches and the bad pay, that's always the part I remember – how much fun it is."

Kurt leaned back against the sink (he was wearing his "Camp Blue Rain" t-shirt as required of him, so he didn't really care if it "accidentally" got wet or ruined) and asked, "Are the kids always this talented? I mean, sure there are some who came here to sing – I swear, this one girl gives me goosebumps, she was so good – but then there's all the other kids, who haven't necessarily sung much before. The get _so_ into it! Even the ones who are completely tone-deaf just put in their all. It's so adorable.

"This one girl, Sophie?" Kurt continued and Tom nodded. "I told her how much she improved just over that first hour I had her in class and she gave me this heart-melting, gap-toothed smile that–" Kurt finished off his thought with a happy sigh. "This is making me reevaluate my plans to become a cut-throat fashion magnate."

Tom laughed and admitted, "Before I started here, I wanted to be a professional skateboarder. Now, I'm getting my degree in Education this December. Funny how life isn't always what we pictured when we were younger."

Kurt nodded in agreement. "I never thought Blaine and I would break up. I always thought he was it for me, you know? The one person I could never say goodbye to. And then life happened."

"It always does, my friend," Tom said, patting Kurt roughly on the shoulder before heading out of the room. He threw a quick "G'night" over his shoulder, and Kurt was left alone with his thoughts. This change of heart was just because of all the newness, wasn't it? Kurt was destined for bigger and better things than being a teacher forever. He just knew it.

It was, however, messing with his previous insistence that he didn't want kids. Maybe one wouldn't be so bad. Eventually. If he found the right person to replace Blaine.

**Chapter 6**

The second Friday of camp was the rainiest day Kurt had seen that summer. The rain came down in big fat drops, gathering in puddles all over the camp that made avoiding mud impossible. By the end of the day, the kids were starting to go a little nuts from lack of outdoor activity, and Kurt was having a hell of a time getting his boys to settle down.

"Kurt! Hey, Kur–"

"Give me a second, Robbie," Kurt insisted, picking at the tenth and final knot that Kevin Garrity had tied in his shoelaces, making his shoes impossible to remove without either undoing the knots or taking a scissor to the laces.

"But, Kurt! Mason's really sick!" Robbie insisted, tugging on Kurt's shirt insistently. "He threw up!"

Sighing at the bad luck that was this whole day, Kurt told the boy, "I'll be right there, okay? Let me just finish this– ah! There you go, Kevin. Now, finish getting ready for bed, alright?"

Kevin nodded, and Kurt let Robbie pull him by the hand over to Mason's bed. The boy had been looking a little green at dinner, but now he looked so pale that Kurt's heart jumped up into his chest in worry. It looked like he'd been sick in a trash can, at least, so Kurt thanked the Universe for small favors and laid the back of his hand against Mason's forehead. Kurt gasped at the searing heat radiating from Mason's skin. "Shit."

"Kurt!" Robbie gasped, pressing a hand over his mouth in apparent shock at Kurt's curse.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt told Robbie, "Go run and get Ms. Sandra for me, would you? Remember to put on your raincoat." Robbie took off like a shot and Kurt turned to the sick boy. His short, dirty blonde hair was slick on his forehead and behind his ears with sweat, and he was breathing far too quickly for it to be normal. "Mason? Mason, can you tell me how you're feeling?"

The boy scrunched his eyelids, but didn't open them, and moaned a little in response. Oh, this was seriously no good. Well, first things first, the fever had to come down. Kurt wasn't supposed to give the kids any medications, leaving that up to Sandra, but he could at least wet a towel in the bathroom sink and drape it over Mason's forehead.

Before long, Sandra and Robbie came back into the cabin, Robbie shaking himself off like a dog and Sandra simply leaving her wet shoes next to the door. "What's wrong?" she demanded, the crease between her brows deep with worry.

"Mason's very ill," Kurt replied. "This came on so quickly. He was fine at lunch, a little pale at dinner and now…" He gestured toward the boy, who groaned a little more when Sandra put her hand on his shoulder, but was otherwise unresponsive. "I'm not sure–" he began to say, but Sandra had already pushed Mason onto his back and was gently prodding at his stomach. When she hit a certain spot on his lower right belly, Mason whimpered loudly and tried to push her hand away.

"We have to get him to a hospital," Sandra decided, her lips pinched together as she looked out the window at the pouring rain that blotted out the remaining little sunlight of the day.

"Then that's what we'll do," Kurt replied, finding Mason's shoes and attempting to get them onto his feet, even though he was really starting to moan now.

"The thing is…" Sandra began before leaning toward Kurt and continuing in a soft voice that the boys around them couldn't hear, "the roads are pretty bad when it's this wet out and we only have the big vans, nothing smaller. I'm afraid driving in this weather is too dangerous–"

"I'll do it," Kurt interrupted. "It doesn't take a genius to see that Mason needs a doctor now, not in the morning."

Sandra frowned, "Yes, but why y–"

"Because I grew up driving," Kurt insisted, finally managing to get Mason's shoe on his foot. "My dad owns a tire and lube shop back in Ohio. I can do this. I've sucessfully driven a tow truck fifteen miles during a blizzard, and you can be sure that I'll drive us only as fast as the conditions warrant."

Sandra gave Kurt one long look before nodding. "Alright. But I'm sending Noah with you. He's a trained EMT."

Kurt nodded as Sandra hurried away before realizing what she'd said and calling after her, "Wait, what?" Noah, _Puck_, was a paramedic?

Sandra didn't answer him, though, so Kurt finished getting Mason ready. He apparently hadn't had the energy to change out of his street clothes, which Kurt was grateful for, since all he really had to do was wrap the boy up in his sweatshirt and then his rain poncho. Mason was fairly light, so Kurt picked him up and went to stand at the door, waiting to be told what to do next. While he waited, he murmured to Mason, telling him he was going to be fine, and Kurt tried to believe that. What if it was impossible to get him to the hospital in time? What if the road was washed out? What if Kurt lost control of the van and crashed?

Fairly soon, though, Sandra and Puck pulled up in one of the vans (Kurt recognized it as Betsy, the one Mary drove and the one Kurt had looked over himself a few weeks ago). Puck jumped out of the passenger seat and opened the sliding back door, waving Kurt forward. "C'mon!" he yelled as he climbed into the first seat. "Put him back here with me."

Kurt followed Puck's orders and handed over the boy, impressed by the way Puck got him settled, head in his lap, and began quickly and efficiently checking him over. Kurt would have liked to watch longer, but Sandra caught him arm and started giving him directions to the nearest emergency room – almost an hour away.

Committing the directions to memory, Kurt got up into the driver's seat and adjusted it and the mirrors as much as he could before buckling in and throwing the van into drive. "What's wrong with him?" Kurt asked over his shoulder. "Can I take it slow and easy, or should I try for as fast as possible?"

Puck didn't answer for a few seconds, but then Kurt heard his seat belt, and probably Mason's click into place. "As fast as possible. He's got appendicitis pretty bad, and if it hasn't already burst, it's about to."

"Shit," Kurt breathed, pulling through the camp and out toward the road.

~~qp~~

Riding in the back of a giant passenger van, after dark, with rain pelting the metal shell so hard he could barely hear his own thoughts, was nothing like riding in the back of a NYFD ambulance, and the difference threatened to make Puck sick to his stomach. It was bad enough that Mason kept dry-heaving into the towel Puck held out for him, stinking up the whole van with bile. Then there was Kurt's driving style. It was quick and efficient and careful without being too slow, but did he have to hit every single pothole along the way? The shocks on the van weren't nearly as forgiving as he seemed to think they were, especially in the back seat.

"You think you could take it easy, there, Steve McQueen?" he called up to the front seat, trying not to put too much ire into his voice. "It's a little rough back here."

"Sorry!" Kurt replied, his voice high and tight. "Just, don't distract me, okay? I can barely see the road as it is."

Puck replied just soft enough for Kurt to hear, "Sure," and left it at that.

They were almost to town when all of a sudden there was a flub-flub-flub noise from the back of the van and Kurt cursed as the whole vehicle shuddered, "Damn!"

"What?" Puck's heart seized up as they lurched around the road, weaving into the oncoming lane for one heart-stopping moment, tipping wildly and Puck was sure they were about to roll and die horrible deaths. But then, like some sort of crazy action hero, Kurt wrestled the almost-tipping van to a stop. It took Puck a moment to start breathing again and notice they were in a shoulder that looked more like the beginning of some farm's driveway, but he couldn't be sure with how dark and rainy it was. "What's going on?"

"Felt like a tire blew out," Kurt replied, his voice shaky but much more calm than Puck's would have been after saving them from an accident. Then Kurt hit the steering wheel in what looked like frustration before hopping out into the rain. It was almost like Kirt thought it was his fault that the tire blew and delayed them from getting Mason to the hospital. Puck had never really seen him care this much about anything that wasn't related to musical theater, and as Kurt threw open the back doors, presumably looking for the spare and a jack, Puck decided he liked the way determination looked on Kurt's face. Calling out over the seats between them, Kurt said, "Definitely a flat back here! I think I'm gonna need a hand. Someone to hold the flashlight, at least!"

Mason was asleep on his lap, so Puck slid out from underneath him carefully and climbed out the side door. "How long is this going to take? Mason's getting worse every minute."

Kurt looked over at him, spare tire half-way out of its place underneath the far-back seat, bangs slicked down against his forehead with rain, and replied, "It'll take as long as it takes. Don't worry, Puck. I'm a professional."

Puck couldn't help but bark a relieved laugh and nod as he wiped rain out of his eyes, and then grabbed the kit from next to the tire. There was a flashlight inside, which he flicked on right away, as well as the jack, a tire iron, and a few other odds and ends.

Kurt grabbed the jack and met his eyes with a tiny smile. "I'll take that."

Puck thought about offering to help with the heavy lifting, but if he was being honest with himself, he was enjoying watching Kurt defy his expectations. Maybe a little too much, because he suddenly got the urge to find out what the raindrop sliding down the side of Kurt's neck tasted like. Yeah, now was not the time or place.

As Kurt jacked up the van frame quickly and without asking for help, Puck eyed Kurt's raincoat and admitted, "I wish I would have thought of that. I'm freezing my ass off out here."

"You were never a boy scout, were you, Puck?" Kurt replied, breathing heavily through his work.

"No, I totally was. But Carole always worried about raincoats and shit. I mostly focused on starting fires." He grinned, though Kurt probably couldn't see him in the dark. "I do know how to change a tire, though, thank you very much."

Kurt looked up at him and handed him the tire iron, their fingers brishing just barely, both cold from the rain. "Shop class?" Kurt asked with a wry, knowing smile.

"Yep," Puck replied. He held the light as steady as he could while Kurt pulled off the flat tire and then seated the spare and began tightening the bolts. Soon, Kurt was stowing things back in the van, so Puck went to go check on Mason.

The boy was still sleeping on the bench seat, his pulse rapid and his skin burning to Puck's rain-cooled fingers. He tried shaking the boy a little and said, "Mason? Hey, Mason? How're you doing, kid?"

Nothing. Mason didn't even moan or make a face. "Shit." Raising his voice, Puck called back to Kurt, "We've gotta go. He's not doing so good."

"Oh, my god," Kurt replied, slamming the back doors shut and hurrying back to the driver's seat. "Is he dying?"

"Not yet," Puck assured him, placing his hand heavily on Kurt's shoulder to reassure him. "But he's in bad shape. The sooner we can get there, the better."

Kurt nodded and said, "I'll do my best."

Frankly, his best was terrifying, and Puck couldn't get his seatbelt latched fast enough as they drove through the heavy downpour on a road that twisted and turned and fuck, Puck was starting to feel carsick again. Fantastic.

He managed to make it the remaining twenty minutes of the drive without puking, but it was a close call at least once or twice. At least Mason woke up as they approached the ER, though he was still woozy, whining up at Puck, "I just wanna go home!"

"I know, kiddo," Puck sighed, his knuckles going white as he gripped his armrest tightly to get himself through a turn.

Kurt pulled up to the emergency room entrance and put the van in park before hopping out and hurrying toward the doors. Puck wasn't quite sure what his plan was, so he carefully pulled Mason into his arms and out of the van. He was halfway around to the doors when Kurt came back with a wheelchair. "Here, put him in. I've got to call Sandra and make sure Mason's parents are on their way and then move the van. Could you check him in and talk to the doctors?"

He seemed more than a little freaked out and anxious, which made Puck even more uneasy about the drive they'd just shared, but what else could he do besides nod and wheel Mason to the triage desk? Kurt ran off in some other direction, so Puck told the nurse, "Hey, I'm an off-duty EMT. This patient is an eight-year-old male, presenting with lower right-quadrant abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting, and a fever, though I'm not sure how high. His pulse and breathing rate are both elevated. Don't have a bp for you. He's been in and out of consciousness during the drive here, but he responds to stimuli."

"Oh, dear." This was a nicer ER than any of the ones he'd worked in NY, because the triage nurse came around from behind her desk with a skin thermometer and swiped it across Mason's forehead and jaw. "One-oh-three," she replied as she put the thermometer back in her scrubs pocket after wiping off one end with an alcohol swab. "Help me get him onto a bed back here. You're his father?"

"Oh, god no. Temporary guardian," Puck insisted as they approached the door that went back into the emergency department and paused there. "I'm his camp counselor. My, uh, fellow counselor has the release paperwork from his parents."

The nurse sighed in relief. "We're gonna need that if we have to bring him into surgery."

"He should be here," Puck replied, looking back toward the waiting room and spotting Kurt rushing in through the front doors. He waved the guy over, asking, "You have the medical forms, right? Sandra gave them to you?"

A little less flustered than he had been, Kurt nodded. "Yes, yes. They're right here." He handed a sheaf of papers over to the nurse.

Before long, they were settled, with Mason sleeping in a hospital bed, his parents on their way, and the ER doctors discussing ultrasounds and surgical options. Kurt put his hand on Puck's arm, making him look over, and asked, "Is he going to be okay?"

Puck hated that scared, vulnerable look in Kurt's eye - it reminded him of that time Burt Hummel had his heart attack - so he said, "Yeah. He's gonna be great," even though he knew that any surgery had its risks, even one as routine as this. Plus, it didn't help that Mason's fever kept climbing, which probably meant his appendix was starting to burst. At this point, though, Puck's job was over. Well, his and Kurt's. "We got him here," Puck pointed out. "We did it. _You_ did it. That was some pretty fancy driving, Kurt."

Blushing, Kurt replied, "It wasn't that big a deal. I mean, there were a few stretches of road that were pretty difficult and when that tire–"

Puck hadn't even known he was going to do it until he was halfway out of his chair with his lips pressed roughly against Kurt's. Kurt, in turn, made a surprised noise behind his soft lips before breathing in sharply through his nose and kissing back. Between kisses, Kurt asked, "Since when ... are you ... a paramedic?"

Puck chuckled a little and gave Kurt one final kiss before pulling back. This wasn't really the time or the place. He took one long breath to cool off and then told Kurt, "I didn't think I could get into college, so when pool cleaning petered out that first fall, I decided to use the last of my money to get trained. Got a job in Columbus. This summer's the longest leave I've taken from it since then. Kinda hope I still got a job in the city when I go back, but if I don't, no big."

"Why no big?" Kurt asked, wiping off his mouth a little and leaning in his chair like he was really, truly interested in what Puck had to say.

Puck had to admit the attention felt nice. Much better than earlier in the summer when Kurt had been ignoring him. It made him feel like opening up, sharing his thoughts much more than he normally did. "It's a good job, and I like it, but it's not something I could see myself doing forever, you know?"

Kurt nodded and admitted, "That's sort of how I felt about working in my dad's shop. I was good at it, and the money was nice, but I am not cut out to run a tire store for the rest of my life." He smiled, making Puck's stomach swoop a little, which was so not cool. Then he looked down and took Puck's hand in his, fingertips playing lightly over his skin.

Jesus Christ, was Puck getting hard from a few kisses and having his hand held? He totally was! His whole body was betraying him and Puck wondered how much was due to his attraction to Kurt and how much was the disorienting fact that he was still freezing his ass off in damp clothes at midnight in a strange ER after doing their damnest to save Mason's life. Puck had always been an adrenaline junkie. It was part of the reason he was so good at his job.

Then Kurt asked, "So what brought you to New York?"

Puck took a deep breath and squeezed Kurt's hand before replying, "I was playing in this coffee shop on my day off and this music professor from Ohio State just sort of decided I was going to come work with him. With his and Schue's reccommendations, I got in the next fall. Then all of a sudden he started talking about me transferring to Steinhardt since he knows a guy researching music thereapy there and yeah. I just kinda went along with it."

"It sounds," Kurt said, squeezing Puck's hand back and meeting his eyes for a long, meaningful look, "like you don't give yourself enough credit for your successes."

Puck opened his mouth to disagree, but before he could make a sound, doctors poured into the curtained area, saying they were taking Mason into surgery and they'd gotten consent from his parents over the phone and this nurse would lead Puck an Kurt to the surgical waiting room.

**Chapter 7**

Kurt was more than a little surprised at Puck's story, and thought it over as they sat on one of the couches in the waiting room, again hand-in-hand by some unspoken agreement. He'd expected that Puck would continue playing in coffee houses and the like, and he wasn't even all that surprised that a professor had talked him into going to college for music. It was just – being an EMT and studying music therapy, those were professions that required at least some degree of caring and empathy.

If Kurt was being honest with himself, even three years later, he still thought of Puck as the thoughtless teenage bully who'd thrown him in dumpsters. Who knew a boy that had started out so mean could end up so nice? That, combined with the better haircut and those devastating kisses, and Kurt felt like he was going to implode under the pressure of holding Noah Puckerman's hand and doing nothing else.

He opened his mouth to say he was going to go look for a coffee machine, but before he could speak, two middle-aged people came rushing into the waiting room. The woman practically flung herself over the nurses' desk as she demanded, "Where's Mason? Where's my son?"

"Must be his parents," Puck murmured in Kurt's ear, and Kurt fought the shudders that wanted to wrack his body at the feel of Puck's breath on his skin.

"Must be," Kurt agreed, folding his hands together tightly so they wouldn't wander off on their own and do something stupid, like squeeze Puck's thigh or arm or run through his close-cropped hair.

There were a few minutes of Mason's parents talking to the nurse and then noticing them and asking what had happened, and then, as the couple sat down and held each other, talking softly amongst themselves, Kurt felt very out of place. "We should go," he whispered in Puck's ear. "We have to get the van a new tire before we can drive it back, and Mason's in good hands now."

"Sure." Puck nodded, following when Kurt got up and walked away from the surgical waiting room. They were halfway back to the parking garage when Puck grabbed Kurt's wrist and pulled him into the men's room they were about to pass.

"What?" Kurt asked, noticing that this was a one-person bathroom so why were they–? And then Puck kissed him, almost hesitantly, but not quite – like he was testing the waters. As he pulled back, eyes meeting Kurt's, Kurt paused for half a second, wondering what exactly he should do. On the one hand, his relationship with Puck had always been a little hostile, and that couldn't be healthy, could it? And Kurt was still recovering from his break up with Blaine. But on the other hand, Puck tasted so amazing and Kurt's body was definitely responding – his heart thumping in his chest, his breath coming quickly and his groin growing warm.

Then Kurt asked himself, what was the harm? Sure they worked together, but it was only for the summer. And Puck, in his own way, was kind of safe. Kurt knew him, knew where he came from, and even if this went horribly, at least he had that.

So, he threw his arms around Puck's shoulders and pulled him in for a tight, hot, wet, soul-shaking kiss. It didn't even take a millisecond for Puck to respond, pressing Kurt up against the door with his body and putting his hands _everywhere_. Kurt distantly heard the sound of the lock clicking shut, but he was too busy letting Puck suck on his tongue to take much notice.

As Puck grinded against him and moved his lips to start kissing down Kurt's neck, Kurt couldn't help but ask, "Why? This isn't just because Charity dumped you, is it?"

"Fuck no," Puck hissed against Kurt's skin, pressing so close it felt like he was trying to erase all the space between them. "What you did tonight, getting us here in one piece? Driving that big van like you were making it your bitch? So fucking sexy. Not to mention your _ass_," he groaned, hands slipping down to cup the sides of Kurt's behind. Kurt was sure he'd try for more if there wasn't a door in the way.

Kurt groaned in response. He'd never been told his driving skills were _sexy_ before. He'd been complimented for his clothes, his skin, his hair, and sometimes even his singing voice, but those were all things he put so much time and effort into, he'd be insulted if no one ever noticed. He didn't even think about driving, especially since he hadn't done that much of it since moving to New York. It felt like Puck wanted him for who he was deep down in the places he didn't really notice anymore, and not for the face he cultivated for everyone.

It felt intoxicating.

Puck found just the right angle to thrust against him so that sparks of pleasure cavorted through Kurt's entire body and made him cry out, muffling the sound against where his arm met Puck's shoulder. After taking a breath, he managed to whisper, "Fuck. I'm not gonna last."

"Me neither," Puck assured him. From there on it was quick and dirty, and none of their clothes had been shed by the time it ended, both panting into the other's mouth. Kurt couldn't bring himself to care, too wrapped up in holding onto Puck and kissing him slowly as his heartbeat went back to normal.

Resting his temple against Puck's, Kurt said, "We really should get going."

"Just gimme a minute," Puck replied. Kurt thought he meant a minute to get cleaned up – which to tell the truth, Kurt wouldn't mind having as well – but when Kurt tried to move away to give Puck some privacy, he was held in place by strong arms around his waist. Kurt relaxed into the embrace and began to think that maybe breaking up with Blaine hadn't been the worst thing ever to happen to him after all.

~~qp~~

Things between Puck and Kurt were fairly quiet on the way back up to the camp and it gave Puck some time to think. His feelings about this whole situation were ... odd. And way too intense. Sure, he'd known since Junior year of high school that Kurt was an alright guy. And after he'd had that one growth spurt, he suddenly got hot. But the way Puck felt whenever he looked over at Kurt – sorta sick and excited at the same time – was way too much like he'd felt about Quinn and then Lauren. And then Steve.

It freaked him the fuck out. If he fell for Kurt, like seriously started loving the dude, things were just going to spiral out of control and go down in flames like they always did. Puck would do something to ruin it, like sext someone else, or pressure Kurt into telling his family about them, and then where would he be? Finding the closest dive where he could get shitfaced and then laid.

Yeah, he'd been thinking about dating that Colin dude, but not seriously. Not like _this_ where sitting in the passenger seat, _not_ touching Kurt felt like it was killing Puck more and more every minute.

When they got back to camp and Kurt parked the car, Puck tried to jump out, because he needed some space, needed time away to figure out whether what he was feeling was just hormones, or if it was terribly real. But Kurt closed a hand lightly around his wrist, which made Puck stay, even though he could have easily broken the hold. "I hope–" Kurt said, moving his hand so it clasped Puck's. "I hope this wasn't just a one-time thing. I mean, I'd like to again. If– if you would too, I mean. Ongoing. Like, dating."

Puck bit his tongue so he wouldn't say something embarrassing like "God yes!" and cleared his throat. "Sure," he nodded. Like he would ever say no. "But," he added, knowing that he needed this to make sure his heart wasn't fucking with him, "I don't do exclusive. If that's a deal breaker for you..."

Kurt was silent for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. I mean, I'm just getting over my only relationship, so maybe it'll be good for me - being not exclusive." Puck hated the sound of that, but fair was fair, right? Kurt stuck out his hand, "Okay, Puckerman. You've got yourself a deal."

Rolling his eyes, Puck grabbed Kurt's hand and instead of shaking it, used it to pull him close and into another kiss. Within seconds it became heated, and even though it was morning and they hadn't slept except for a few minutes in the waiting area of the tire shop, Puck seriously contemplated tugging Kurt up to his room in the cabin and having sex with him for at least three days straight. The kiss broke, and as Puck met Kurt's eyes, he mentally kicked himself for saying he didn't want to be exclusive. What was he going to do, though? Scare him off by telling Kurt he was in love or some bullshit? Yeah, not gonna happen. Another kiss, though-

Bang, bang, bang!

"Welcome back, boys!" Mary cried from just outside Puck's window. "Have a good time?" Her grin said that she'd seen enough to get a fairly accurate picture of what was going on, so Puck just smirked right on back at her and opened his door.

"Back in one piece," Puck agreed, looking over his shoulder to where Kurt was climbing out his side of the van. "All thanks to this guy."

Kurt waved him away and insisted, "It was nothing, really."

Puck scoffed, "Nothing, my ass," which made Kurt raise one wry eyebrow at him. "What?"

Kurt blushed a little, but didn't reply, instead taking Mary by the arm and leading her away from the parking lot and toward the main rec building. Puck watched him go, and when Kurt looked back, as if to check and make sure Puck's eyes were on him, he smirked.

Oh, yeah. Puck could get used to this.

**Chapter 8**

"You know," Kurt said as he pressed Puck shirtless up against the bathroom door, "Sandra talked to me about our recent 'behavior.'" God, despite his Neanderthal grooming habits (which were only slightly tempered by the use of expensive cologne that a former lover had given him), his skin was as soft as silk under Kurt's lips.

Kurt felt more than a little pride at the fact that Puck's response was less than intelligible. "Unhh?"

"She said that getting caught in a compromising position on site is grounds for dismissal," Kurt replied, pressing Puck's hips back with both hands as he mouthed down the center of his chest. "This could get us both fired," he elaborated when his mouth wasn't pressed to warm, salty skin.

Puck cleared his throat softly and a slight whine escaped his lips before he whispered, "Dude, I don't _care_. Sandra's blue balls totally aren't my problem." Clumsily, like he'd just regained some control over his limbs, Puck grabbed Kurt's shirt and pulled it off before leading him back upward for a heavy kiss that turned into wide mouths and tasting tongues and that "Oh, God! Now!" urgency that Kurt hadn't felt with Blaine for a long time. "Oh, is she still pissed about finding us in her office? We had pants on."

"Only because Tom distracted her in the hallway at the last second," Kurt pointed out, licking Puck's bottom lip as untied the waist of Puck's swimming trunks. "And I wasn't the one who left the half-torn-open condom on her desk."

Puck groaned as Kurt knelt in front of him, swallowing reflexively a few times before he asked, "You think anyone heard us last night?"

"They wouldn't have if you'd learn to be quiet," Kurt replied, before he smirked and – still pinning Puck's hips – set to work with a gusto that made Puck fairly certain Blaine was a fucking idiot for giving Kurt up.

~~qp~~

Kurt couldn't help but cry a little bit when his first batch of students hit the end of their time at Camp Blue Rain and he had to wave goodbye as they all met up with their families and drove away. "I've learned so much from them," he told Mary, who patted his arm and then squeezed it in comfort.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're welcome to drive down to Albany with Tom and me. We're going dancing!"

"That sounds perfect," Kurt replied with as much of a smile as he could muster at the given moment. It would be good to go somewhere that didn't remind him of the kids he loved but probably wouldn't ever see again. "Okay if I invite Puck?"

"Of course! The more the merrier," Mary insisted.

It turned out Puck didn't want to go. "I could really use the sleep, babe," he admitted, and now that he'd mentioned it, Kurt saw what he was talking about. He looked almost worn down. The combination of late nights sneaking around with Kurt and running sports games for the kids during the day must have really taken their toll.

"You don't mind if I go, do you?" Kurt asked, because while he didn't want someone who would try to tell him what to do all the time (much less someone who couldn't even commit enough to be in an exclusive relationship), he did want to be considerate.

Puck shrugged and replied, "Nah, man. Do what you gotta do. Have fun."

Kurt beamed and kissed Puck on the lips, even though they were in the hallway of the men's cabin and thus sort of in public. "Thanks! See you tomorrow night!"

~~qp~~

Puck let Kurt believe that he wasn't getting enough sleep because being a camp counselor was stressful or some shit. It wasn't, or at least it wasn't when kids weren't getting appendicitis and almost dying. No, what had been keeping him up nights was this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that sooner or later, Kurt was going to realize this thing he and Puck had was just fun and that he should start looking for a real boyfriend – someone who could replace Blaine, someone who didn't get so freaked out at the thought of falling in love that he let his boyfriend go out dancing without him.

God, he just needed to get over himself already and talk to Kurt, didn't he? But he hated talking and he hated getting over himself and why couldn't things just stay uncomplicated the way he wanted them to?

Puck was still trying to figure out his words the next day, when he was cleaning out the damn wood stove because there were too many ashes and it wasn't working well anymore and it wasn't like anyone else was going to do it. He heard Tom's voice as he came into the cabin and he was about to stand up to greet Kurt (god, he'd missed the guy), who should be with Tom, until the words coalesced in his brain. "...believe you did that, even if you and Puck have 'an arrangement.' What are you going to tell him?"

Kurt replied softly, but with confidence, "Just that I kissed some guy at a bar..." Kurt did _what_? "...and it wasn't a big deal. I don't even know his name. I mean, I'm sure if Puck had gone out with his friends, he'd have actually hooked up with someone. I'm telling you, Puck didn't want to be exclusive. I'm just living by his rules."

"Whatever," Tom replied. "But tell him, like, right now. Before that guy tags you on his Facebook pictures."

"Oh, dear lord! He's on my Facebook now? Why did you let me take that last birthday cake shot?" Kurt sighed. He and Tom passed the kitchen and were on their way up to the bedrooms on the second floor when Puck stood up in the kitchen, his heart in his shoes.

He was too late. He'd fucked up another good thing, just like he always did. God, better to end things now before he got even more invested and then got dumped for someone or something else better. Again.

~~qp~~

"Hey," Kurt heard from the other side of his door along with a knock. "Can I just say something real quick?"

Oh, god. It was Puck. Even though the whole idea of this summer relationship was to play the field a little and not be exclusive, Kurt knew he wasn't like that. Kissing that other guy felt too much like cheating, like an oil stain on his heart that he would need to take kitty litter and industrial strength soap to before it would come off.

Ready to tell Puck about what had happened and ask for different rules regarding their relationship, Kurt opened the door. Before he could get a word out, though, Puck spoke. "Look, it's been fun, but…" Kurt stopped and stared in surprise, mouth open. "...this isn't workin' for me."

"Wait, what?" Kurt asked, completely blindsided. "What's not working for you?" He hoped Puck meant that shirt with those pants, because they really did sort of clash.

"You and me," Puck clarified and Kurt's stomach dropped so far so fast that he felt sick. "No big, right? It was fun. See ya around." As Puck walked away, Kurt couldn't do anything but watch him go and ponder the fact that Puck didn't seem as casual as his words suggested. His fists were clenched tightly and his shoulders far straighter than he normally held them. Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

Not to mention the fact that this was Kurt's second break up of the year and by far the more confusing of the two.

~~qp~~

Puck realized during the first meal after he split up with Kurt that he'd burned all his bridges by doing so. He didn't want to sit with Charity and her asshole friends. He didn't want to sit with Kurt's friends. Everyone knew he was bi or thought he was gay and while most of Puck's coworkers were cool with it in theory, welcoming him to eat with them was another story.

So Puck sat by himself and sketched new lesson plans on a paper towel. At one point, after she was obviously done eating, Sandra came over and sat down. "Are you okay, Noah?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he asked gruffly, looking down at his food again and chasing a pea around his plate.

"Because you're over here and Kurt's over there and you both look like you just found out someone died," she replied, making like she was going to pat him on the shoulder and then thought better of it, pulling her hand away. "I know I gave you two a hard time about the rules, but they're strict for a reason. We're a children's camp and–"

Puck interrupted her, "No, duh," and stood up, taking his dishes with him and putting them in the sink, even though his food was only half eaten. Sandra's rule was understandable, he guessed, but if she thought he was pissed about that, she was sorely mistaken. He wished he could be pissed at Kurt, but he didn't have a leg to stand on there, since he'd been the one to say they should be non-exclusive in the first place. Silly him for thinking there weren't any other single gay dudes Kurt would run across. Silly him for thinking Kurt was the kind of guy who wouldn't even test a dumb rule like that.

The new group of kids were going to show up in the morning, so Puck tried to get ready and turn in early enough that he wouldn't have to talk to anyone, especially not Kurt. But his stupid thoughts wouldn't quiet down and he was still horribly awake at midnight. Thinking something had to give, Puck hauled himself out of bed and went outside.

The night was fairly mild, but there was a chill in the air, so Puck made his way down to the central fire pit and built himself a little fire under the stars. He was just sitting back after getting a log arranged on top of the kindling when he heard footsteps approach from the cabin. Looking up, he saw the last person he wanted to see – or maybe the only person he really wanted to see. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Kurt replied, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around him and sitting down a good ten feet away from Puck. "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Puck figured that fact was self-explanatory, because there was no other reason to be out of bed at one in the morning with students on the way unless a party was involved. He didn't reply, merely poked at the fire with a long sturdy branch, rearranging things a little.

After a moment, Kurt broke the silence by saying, "Well you can just listen, then. I'm really confused about what happened between us. I thought – and maybe I was delusional. I often am – that we really had something."

"It was just physical," Puck insisted, wondering if he could make a break for it and lose Kurt in the woods before they had to have this stupid conversation.

"It wasn't just physical, and you know it," Kurt replied, scooting a little closer to Puck. In response, Puck shifted himself away, which made Kurt frown. "I think if it had been just physical, you wouldn't be so upset and jealous."

"Who said I was jealous?" Puck snapped. Shit. He was being so fucking obvious. After this, he was going back to dumb blondes or something. Dating a smarter person never worked out for him. Not that dating anyone worked out for him, but whatever. That Colin guy from before camp hadn't seemed too intellectual. Maybe Puck would give him a call when summer was over.

"Oh, please," Kurt replied, giving up his chase. "You obviously heard about what happened in Albany, which I feel horrible about, not that you asked."

"You do?" Puck thought over what he'd heard Kurt say to Tom and there wasn't anything about him actually feeling _bad_ about kissing another guy. Puck raised one eyebrow skeptically, though he wasn't even sure Kurt could see it in the firelight.

Kurt nodded, and this time when he shifted closer, Puck held his ground. "I do. I was drunk and I was trying to be the boyfriend I thought you wanted – someone who wouldn't put all this pressure on you to commit to something you didn't want." He smiled sadly and admitted, "I couldn't do it. Not without feeling like a complete jerk."

Puck nodded and turned back to the fire. Kurt wanted more from him. He wanted the same things Puck wanted, but hadn't quite said out loud yet. And Puck had thrown that away for an overheard conversation.

He felt like an idiot.

Puck felt like an idiot and the words spilled out of him before he could stop them. "I think I'm falling in love with you or something." Oh, God! Oh, that was way too much and now Kurt was going to think he was even more of an idiot and–

Before Puck could get his legs under him to run away, maybe even out of the state, scholarship be damned, Kurt scrambled over with his knees in the dirt and pulled Puck into a tight, warm kiss. When it ended, Puck was on his back, his legs were tangled up with Kurt's, and Kurt had a hand planted in the dirt on either side of his head.

"Can we just be a normal couple?" Kurt asked quietly, his eyes twinkling in the firelight in a way that made Puck want to agree to anything, especially that.

"Exclusive?" he clarified. "Just you and me?"

"Just us," Kurt agreed, leaning down to kiss Puck again.

Puck licked Kurt's bottom lip and waited until he pulled up before smiling and whispering, "I think I'd actually like that."

"Good." Kurt sat back on his heels and tugged on Puck's arm to get him to stand up too. "Because you're all mine, mister."

Puck could totally be down with that.

Puckurt Mix :: Through the Seasons

.zip download | youtube playlist

**Subtexto por lulina | talking past each other**

"Oi, tudo bom?"  
Você é tão lindo  
"Gosto de você"  
Quer ficar comigo para sempre?  
Vamo sair hoje?  
Que pena que essa noite acabou e você não entendeu...

_"Hi, how's it going?"  
You are so handsome  
"I like you."  
Would you stay with me forever?  
Want to go out?  
What a shame that tonight ended and you didn't understand..._

**Give It To Me Right by Melanie Fiona | kurt's frustration with puck's seeming indifference**

Okay, okay,  
He's got my number and  
You can't, you can't  
Warn me baby here I am  
Either you make the time  
Or just forget me

**Esto es lo que hay por Diana Navarro | puck's desire for acceptance**

Cada uno es como es  
y yo, soy como soy  
esto es lo que hay  
esto es simplemente lo que yo soy  
_Each one is as it is  
And I am as I am  
This is how it is  
This is simply what I am_

**Summer Nights by Florrie | the hooking up begins**

I'll meet you at a quarter past ten  
I won't be missing you out again  
Cause I don't know where to begin  
so open up your eyes and let me in

**Do Ya Thang by Rihanna | just enjoying each other and their easy arrangement**

Babe you the one at the end of the day  
You are who you are  
And I love you that way  
Lust ain't love, if you know the difference  
You ran a little game on ya  
Caught up in your feelings

**So Into You by Ledisi | their physical relationship crossing over into romance**

What you give me is never too much  
There is so much to us but this is physical  
I'm so into you  
I could stay up with you all night

**In the End by Kat deLuna | puck falling for kurt**

All I wanna do is have a good time  
Let the beat go through me and just take me away  
So the more you're good to me  
The more I try to get you to leave

**Wish I didn't Know by The Saturdays | puck's unexpected heartbreak**

Seeing the laughter in your eyes  
Seeing the smile I thought was mine  
Watching you kiss her lips goodbye  
Things I wish I didn't know

**We Can Be New by Amel Larrieux | they want to make it work**

Can you tell me a story  
That ends with morning glory?  
If you give me a reason  
I'll be with you through all seasons


End file.
